


Forbidden Magic

by Dristi5683



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, F/M, War, dark?, hint of possible romance, probably, undead army, written for halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 16:51:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16201676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dristi5683/pseuds/Dristi5683
Summary: The dead have risen and are controlled by Hawk Moth. But it’s not enough. He needs Marinette’s bloodline magic to become truly powerful. And she’ll do anything to stop him, including summoning the greater demon, Chat Noir.





	Forbidden Magic

“I must stop Hawk Moth. I will stop Hawk Moth.” 

The vow had become Marinette’s mantra and lifeline, continuously repeating loudly in her mind and quietly on her lips. 

She drew a large pentagram in chalk on the concrete floor of her family’s basement

“I must stop Hawk Moth. I will stop Hawk Moth.” 

The frantic whisper of the vow and the scratching of chalk rose to a crescendo, swirling into a tornado of desperation. It consumed the cavernous room, eliminating the heavy silence that had greeted her when she’d first entered. 

Dust tickled her nose as she worked in the dark, lit only by the candles placed on each point of the ancient symbol. Crumbling white, flickering yellow, and an encompassing black filled her vision...until an unbidden image of her parents’ lifeless eyes shattered the quasi peace. 

A drawn line went jagged and her chalk cracked in half. She vanquished the memory, but it plagued her day and night, even invading her dreams. 

When she completed the symbol, she stood and stared down at her last hope. Despite the flames surrounding her, she shivered. 

This was dangerous magic. Forbidden magic. 

“I must stop Hawk Moth. I will stop Hawk Moth.” 

She fished inside her dainty, pink purse—everything before was pink and dainty—and pulled out the ancient ceremonial knife she’d taken from her family’s vault. Countless Cheng witches before her had used the gilded blade to bind themselves to another in a promise of everlasting love, support, and happiness. She had hoped to use it when she found her other half. She had hoped for many things that seemed trivial now. 

Walking to the center of the pentagram, she clenched the bejeweled hilt, set with rubies, sapphires, and opals, and sliced open her palm. She knelt and pressed her hand to the floor before her nerves got the best of her. 

A bone-deep chill shot up her arm and set her teeth on edge. 

“I must stop Hawk Moth. I will stop Hawk Moth.” 

She ignored the stinging cut, stepped outside the drawn symbol, and deposited the blade along with her purse on a nearby table. Turning to face the pentagram, she unfolded an old paper ripped free of Tikki’s grimoire, the originator of her family’s coven. The summoning spell shook in her white-knuckled grip. 

“I must stop Hawk Moth. I will stop Hawk Moth.” 

Taking a deep breath, she let the vow cease and settled in the moment, ripe with magic and heavy with intention. It clung to her skin as if it were a muggy summer day, instead of a crisp fall night. 

Her lips moved and she gave voice to the words that would change her life forever. Even if this last-ditch effort ended up being her downfall, she would die happy knowing Hawk Moth would never get her family’s bloodline magic.

The moment she uttered the last word, the candle flames blinked out before reigniting as thick pillars of light, illuminating the space as if daylight streamed in through nonexistent windows. Yet, the center of the pentagram was darker than a moonless night. The kind of darkness that was palpable and suffocating. 

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. 

“Hello?” Her voice wobbled at the end and she suppressed a wince. She must not show fear. 

A weighing silence answered her. The demon was either cloaked in the darkness or _was_ the darkness. She had no idea what to expect, only that he was the most powerful and most feared of the lower realms. 

“Chat Noir?”

A low rumble filled the air and reverberated off the walls down to her bones. “Why has the Ladybug Coven summoned me?”

“It’s, um. There’s not really a.” She breathed out. “It’s just me. There’s not a coven anymore.”

A long pause had her wondering if he’d chosen to disregard her, until he asked, “Do you desire revenge, to spill the blood of your enemies until the streets are stained red?”

“Well...no.”

“Then speak,” he snapped. His hard tone was like the crack of a whip against her back. 

She jumped. “Hawk Moth has risen an army of our dead to take over the human world. But it’s not enough. They’re formidable”—she pushed back the battle that had taken her parents and a few friends away from her—“but they still lack their old magic and are no match against human weapons.”

“And he is after the Power of Creation flowing through your veins?”

“Yes. I need you to help me stop him.”

Feline eyes made of green fire appeared out of the darkness and stared at her, straight to her essence. “The easy solution is to kill you.”

Her insides turned to ice. Could he? No. Her magic had never failed her before. “I’ve bound your life to mine. You cannot harm me.”

A sinister laugh wrapped around her like a noose. 

Had she been mistaken? Was the power of creation not strong enough to hold the Lord of Destruction? Her weight shifted and she slid a foot back, ready to flee. 

“Stay.” The command seized her muscles, pinning her to the spot. 

Panic clawed her insides as the wall of darkness shrunk to a humanoid shape, taller and broader than her. Cat ears emerged from a head of blond hair, then a pale face, hidden behind a black eye mask; a suit made of the night; and finally a thin tail that curled around heavy boots. He was fear incarnate. Death radiated from him no less than heat radiated from a fire. 

With his glowing green eyes fixed on her, he stepped out of the pentagram. A _thrum_ vibrated the air and electricity zipped along her exposed skin. The candle flames returned to their normal shape and size, but the space still held a fog of malevolent intent. 

She tried to back away from his slow and sinuous advance, a panther on the prowl. His skin-tight suit flaunted lean muscles with a sense of deadly calm that had her dread doubling.

“Let me go,” she demanded. Her bravado rang false even to her own ears. He had probably not only heard the slight tremor but saw it in her bottom lip, took note of her clenched fists and dilated pupils. He could probably smell her terror. 

He stopped in front of her, his eyes sparking. “You thought to bind me?” When she said nothing—could say nothing because of the giant lump of cold fear lodged in her throat—he leaned in closer to her ear and whispered, “ _You_ bound yourself to _me_.”

No. Nonono. That couldn’t be. She did everything right. Unless the spell was wrong. But that didn’t make sense either. Tikki had been the strongest of her time. The strongest of them all. 

Reading the disbelief on her face, he said, “It’s true.” He leaned back, allowing her to breathe again. “Pick up the knife.”

Her muscles acted on its own, walking her to the table that held the blade, curling her fingers around the hilt, and lifting it up. 

His next command would no doubt be to slice her own throat. 

Unable to drop the knife, her only option was to use it to fight. She’d most likely still die, but at least she wouldn’t go easily. 

Leaping at him, she slashed at his midsection, only for him to twist slightly out of the way. She ripped the wooden table from its spot with her magic and sent it flying at him as she jabbed low. The table erupted into sticks and a spray of splinters before it came within two feet of him. He caught her wrist, spun her around so her back was pressed against him, and held the knife to her throat using her own hand still wrapped around the hilt. 

Marinette’s panting breaths sent strands of her dark hair flying from her mouth. He wasn’t remotely out of breath, let alone a tiny bit disheveled. He’d barely even moved. 

The feel of him against her made goosebumps erupt down her arms. She didn’t dare move, though, not with the cold steel grazing her neck. 

“Insolence,” he hissed against her ear. 

“You can’t expect me to not fight back when you threaten my life.”

“I did no such thing.”

“You did!” What did he take her for? A fool?

“I was merely showing you that I’m in control.”

He? What? She tried to maintain her ire, but it sputtered out due to her confusion. “Then why didn’t you command me to sit like a dog when I attacked?”

He released her and stepped back. “I wanted to see what you could do.” 

As if she were no longer—never?—a threat, he gazed at the ceremonial knife in his hand with intense focus. His foreign magic pulsed and the blade transformed into a silver baton. It lengthened into a staff on its own, and he spun it into a blur. A cool breeze washed over her as she stood mesmerized. The weapon shortened to a compact size and, in a impressive flourish, he hooked it to his lower back. 

And then…

And then he _bowed_. 

She bit the inside of her cheek just to make sure she hadn’t passed out and started dreaming. 

“Take me to Hawk Moth,” he commanded and her legs immediately moved against her will toward the stairs. 

“Wait!”

He sighed and she stopped. “What is it now?”

“You’re...” She swallowed, uncertain if she should even bring it up, but she couldn’t stand not knowing or bear the constant state of trepidation. “You’re not going to kill me?”

He appeared right before her, crowding her space again. “Do you want me to?”

“No. But—”

“Do you not want Hawk Moth dead?”

At times, yes. But, overall, no. “I just want him stopped.”

“Even though he killed your parents? Your friends? Your fellow magic wielders when there are already so few of you?”

His words sliced through her, leaving her nearly breathless. How? How did he know? Could he read her mind?

“You have been hunted, scarred. You are the last of your coven. Alone. Afraid.”

“Stop,” she pleaded, hating that she sounded weak. Tears pricked her eyes and she fought to keep her emotions buried. She would cry later. When this was over or when she was dead. But she would not let Hawk Moth break her. Neither would she let Chat Noir. 

“I can destroy him, make him beg for death. I can bring him to the brink over and over, once for each life he has taken, make him feel what they did.” His voice took on a seductive lilt. “Make him feel the loneliness he’s made you feel.”

Realizing she’d closed her eyes and hadn’t inhaled in however long—because it was oh so tempting to say yes and watch Hawk Moth burn—she sucked in a breath and willed her racing heart to slow. When her trembling subsided, she looked him in those alien eyes and decided to avoid that topic. 

“You can’t go out like that,” she said. 

The mask covering his brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because everyone will know who you are and will join together to force you back to the lower realms.”

“No one knows what I look like,” he countered. 

“Your aura. And the...outfit will set you apart.”

He considered her words while he watched her carefully, then his strange form of magic pulsed and he changed. Gone was the wild hair and outlandish suit. Gone were his feline eyes. They were now human ones, still green and no less mesmerizing. The mask and malignant aura vanished, leaving him standing before her as a normal human, albeit an insanely attractive one. 

_Gah!_

She couldn’t think of him that way. He was a greater demon who enjoyed chaos and destruction, who’d kill her without hesitation. 

“Better?” he asked, one corner of his lips curling upwards, as if he knew her thoughts. 

She nodded sharply and moved toward the stairs again. “Stay by my side.”

“Don’t forget who I am,” he warned. 

She shivered. “Just try not to look like you’re about to eat all the children and enjoy every second of it.”

He laughed and she stopped to look at him. It was a sight to behold. He seemed so normal...yet so much more. She had no words for it. 

Careful, her mind screamed at her. 

If she didn’t look at him, kept her distance, and stayed focused on her vow, she would be fine. 

Without a glance back, they made it out of the ancient house and into the battered street, illuminated by floating magical fires. Most of the rubble had been cleared, but there’d been no time to rebuild whole structures, to repave the road, and remove the broken trees and crushed flowers. 

“It’s not as bad as I expected,” he said. “When I was here last, nothing was left in my wake.”

Her mouth fell open. “Wha—”

“Girl,” Alya called to her as she and Nino ran to them. They stopped, their breaths heavy. “I felt a ton of magic all the way from my place. If you’re trying some crazy spell again, I’m going to—”

“Who’s that?” Nino asked, looking at the disguised demon. 

The blond stepped forward. “Adrien. Marinette just transported me here.”

“Why? We’re kind of dealing with a situation right now.” 

“That’s why I’m here.”

Alya looked at her with raised brows and mouthed the word, ‘hot.’

Adrien shouldn’t have seen her, not at the angle he stood, but his head turned slightly toward Marinette with that half smile she would forever now associate with him. 

“He’s an old friend and a strong fighter,” Marinette tried to explain. “I thought we could use the extra help since...since…” Images of the undead breaking through their magical barrier, wreaking havoc on the town, screaming, fighting, blood, bodies...her parents—

A hand on her arm pulled her out of the downward spiral. She blinked and opened her mouth to thank Alya, but it wasn’t her best friend. Adrien stood beside her, a look of concern crossing his features. No doubt a falsity to trick the others. Regardless, her traitorous heart still thudded offbeat. 

Ignoring him, she asked Nino if Master Fu was at the command center. 

“Dude, he practically lives there now.”

As she walked away, Alya asked, “You’re going there at this time of night?”

“I must stop Hawk Moth.”

This time she did grab her arm, but far more forcefully than Adrien had. “And you will. But you need to replenish your magic after bringing him here.”

“I’m fine.”

Her friend stepped closer to her. “You almost got yourself killed the last time. Go home. Get some sleep. Eat. Meditate. I don’t care, but you need to rest.”

“I can’t,” she bit out, shoving back the memories of the funeral: a parade of black, a deluge of tears, pain that felt like she was being ripped in two, kind words that meant nothing until their murderer was captured. “I must stop Hawk Moth.”

Alya sighed. “I’m coming with you.”

Nino stepped to them. “ _We’re_ coming with you.”

As Marinette nodded, she caught Adrien watching her with a considering expression before it was replaced with cold detachment. He looked to the side, gazing out into the distance. His form tensed. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked. 

Alarms rang through the streets, an air-splitting wail that had her spinning to face the house, waiting for her parents to come barreling out. She shook her head. This was not the last time. _I must stop Hawk Moth. I will stop Hawk Moth._

“They must have sensed my arrival too,” Adrien said.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. 

The ground rumbled. Sleeping birds awoke with furious squawks and shot to the starry night sky. Then the alarms stopped and an eerie silence swept over the space like a cold breeze ushering in a dangerous thunderstorm. 

“Let’s get back to the others,” Alya said. 

“No.” Marinette watched a dark shambling line emerge from the woods surrounding their town. One figure stepped forward. The regal posture and skull-like mask, gleaming under the moonlight gave him away. “It’s Hawk Moth.”

“Come.” Adrien’s tone no longer held the shy innocence he’d affected for her friends. 

Even if she hadn’t been commanded, she would’ve willingly followed him. 

“Marinette.” Her friend’s voice was filled with worry. 

She looked back at her to say it was okay when she noticed the other magic wielders of her town rushing their way, their auras fiery red, ready to fight. Master Fu was at the forefront, keeping up easily even with his shorter stature. 

The rumbling ground that had paused earlier started again tenfold. She whipped around to find Hawk Moth holding his cane in the air as his undead army flowed around him, a raging sea rushing past a boulder. 

“Marinette,” Alya called, this time in desperation. “If he gets your magic, we’re all doomed.”

Adrien ignored the others and stared at Marinette, his gaze calm and certain. “Walk straight to Hawk Moth. Do not veer from the path.”

She nodded, her legs going weak. Was he trying to get her killed?

As her feet started to move, his form rippled, his magic pulsing, then he melted into a black cloud more tangible than a wall. Green feline eyes peered out at her, and she knew with every ounce of her magic that he wasn’t going to let her die this night. He might very well kill her after, but, for now, she was as safe as a child in their mother’s arms. 

The others gasped as he expanded, rising in the air, a black wave ready to crash down on the throngs of undead coming her way. 

She walked, one steady footfall after the other, gaze fixed solely on Hawk Moth and not on the fearless, wild eyes, the gnashing teeth, and flailing limbs of her deceased magical brethren. 

“I must stop Hawk Moth. I will stop Hawk Moth.” She repeated it as fervently as she had while drawing the pentagram. This was it. Hawk Moth would never hurt anyone again. 

Darkness filled her peripheral vision, sweeping over the enemy army, eliciting muffled grunts and gargled inhuman screeches. Black death washed over them, leaving the bodies as lifeless as they were supposed to be. He’d occasionally sweep past her, clearing her path before any could get within two feet of her. Not even bones were left in his wake for her to step over. 

Having him nearby, her own personal cyclone, was oddly comforting. 

When only a dozen of the undead remained, the cloud coalesced into Chat Noir’s feline form. His silver staff swirled around him as he flowed from one enemy to the next, a graceful dance, doling out death as easily as she breathed. 

Hawk Moth slid a long, slender blade from his cane and charged toward her. 

Marinette stretched out an arm calling on her bloodline magic. Roots emerged from the ground to ensnare his legs. 

With a swipe of his sword, he freed himself and continued his charge. 

Chat Noir dropped another undead soldier and said, “You have the most powerful magic at your disposal. Use it.”

The power of creation. She’d always taken that to mean healing and assisting the growth of plants. It was why they had the most beautiful gardens and plentiful crops. Then she’d learned her bloodline magic could bring back the dead, but they would be slaves to her will. She had no clue what else it could do. 

Even as her feet kept moving, she closed her eyes and dove into the well of magic inside her. It swirled with potential. 

Potential. 

That was it. 

Her eyes snapped open. Hawk Moth was closing in on her. So close she could now see the sneer twisting his lips. She envisioned a cage and called it into existence. 

Hawk Moth smacked into red and black polka dotted bars not a foot in front of her. The cage enclosed him, trapping him, yet his sneer curled into a smile and he laughed. 

She followed his gaze down to where his sword jutted out from her abdomen. Pulse spiking, she sucked in a breath. Her parents had met a similar fate. Stab wounds to the abdomen, but their aortas had been severed. They bled out before they could heal themselves. She read her body’s energy and gulped down fear. Her situation wasn’t as dire. She had time. 

Instead of clasping her wound to begin the healing process, she reached for his head and ripped off his mask. Icy blue eyes stared at her in confusion, too stunned to block her hands. 

“What are you doing?” he demanded. 

The pain emanating from the sword finally drifted into her awareness, but she grit her teeth and stared at the man who had taken everything from her. He wasn’t as menacing without his mask. In fact, she pitied him. Something terrible had to have happened to him for him to fall this far. 

“I bind you from ever harming another again.” She envisioned invisible threads weaving around and through him. He gasped, eyes wide, brows shooting toward his hairline. “I bind you from your magic.” 

When her threads touched his magical source, she nearly recoiled. He could give strength and power to others, yet his bloodline magic was so warped from his evil ambitions, it made her nauseous. 

“I bind you from harming another again. I bind you from your magic.”

With a fierce snarl, he jerked the sword out of her and she nearly crumbled in on herself from the agony. 

“I bind you from harming another again. I bind you from your magic.”

This was her vow now, her mantra and lifeline. She would not die until her threads had him fully cut off. She would not die until she was certain everyone else was safe. 

He reared back to thrust the blade into her again, but darkness settled around them as a chill settled over her limbs. The coldness should’ve made her shiver, but she was too tired to even stand. 

Hawk Moth’s words were muffled, but hers was not. “I bind you from harming another again. I bind you from your magic.”

She smiled as she tied off the ends of the threads and cemented them in finality.

It was done. 

As her knees gave way, she allowed her eyes to close and collapsed into the waiting black cloud with green eyes. 

oOoOo 

Marinette slowly woke and was nearly blinded by sunlight. Blessed darkness calmed the intensity and she finally was able to take in her surroundings. She was in her room, the pink mocking her. It was why she hadn’t entered the space since her parents had died. 

A blond boy sat in the chair beside her bed. He watched her with careful, green eyes. Green like a cat’s. 

Chat Noir.

She sat up so quickly her head spun. 

He tsked. 

“What happened?” She ran a hand over her stomach and winced at the tender wound covered in bandages. “How?” she croaked. 

He handed her a glass of water. “I commanded you to not die.”

One of her brows lifted. “So you can kill me later yourself?”

His half smile did funny things to her stomach. “Drink.”

She did because she had to. But the cool liquid was a balm to her dry throat, so she let go of her flare of anger over being commanded again. 

After she emptied the glass, she said, “You didn’t answer me.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I will kill you.” Reaching around her, so close she could smell him—and for the love of all, he smelled so good her toes involuntarily curled—he took the glass from her and set it on the dresser behind him. When he faced her again, it was with such intensity it made her insides twist and turn and her heart race. “Maybe I won’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and happy Halloween!! It might very well be my favorite holiday. :) 
> 
> As I’m sure everyone knows by now—unless you’re new, in which case, hi!—my sister helped edit and was immensely helpful. So thanks to her as well!
> 
> Oh and the ending was totally inspired by The Craft


End file.
